Unknown Definitions
by Z10N33
Summary: A young Naoto Shirogane finds herself within an orphanage, waiting to be taken to her grandfather's estate. When she is there longer than planned, she must entertain herself and come to terms with her grief, and attempt to wrap her mind around an unfamiliar, but painful, emotion. One-shot.


So, I just thought of this after watching the season premiere of Doctor Who. I'm not quite sure why.

I wrote it on a whim, and my thoughts probably aren't too collected. This may or may not be a one-shot.

Also, I had no idea what to call it.

Persona and its characters do not belong to me. I do not claim them as my own. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

By the way, I have no idea what the vocabulary of 5/6 year olds could realistically be. I read a little something on Wikipedia, but that's the extent of my research. Sorry. xD

EDIT: I changed Naoto's age to seven, and a little something at the end. Thank you very much to the kind reviewer who pointed out some of the flaws there. I hope it's a tad more realistic! :)

Great. Okay, well, here goes:

* * *

The orphanage was neither enjoyable nor unpleasant.

The street it sat on was always bustling, squat cars screeching to a stop, horns honking wildly, and irritable men and women impatient to accomplish their daily chores on schedule. Occasionally a cat yowled or a scraggly dog scavenged and drooled at the hands of the rare, unusually generous people. The area was dreary and downright depressing, constantly overcast and always bitingly cold.

A jagged path, armed with pointy stones and gravel, wound through a lawn of brown grass. It snaked and curled unevenly until it clashed with the cracked and crumbling stairs. Thirteen steps, scribbled on with shaky, colorful chalk markings, led to the looming, broad doors of the orphanage. They were thick and scarred with rusty knobs. An eagle-shaped knocker was stuck out at an awkward angle, joints so aged they were as malleable as stone.

On either side of the door were wide glass panes, smeared with the prints of stubby fingers and mud. One was slightly cracked, and allowed a chilly breeze to drift in every miserable day and night. Continuous rain had given the once-white outer walls a particularly gloomy appearance.

However, beyond the deteriorating shell, the orphanage was marginally brighter. The wooden panels lining the floor were a deep, glowing burgundy, and though scarred and worn from years of use, had a warm radiance. The walls were tall and charming, lined with paintings and pictures. Between the doorways, the ever-increasing heights of countless children from various years were carved permanently into the doorframes.

Many children were housed here, all, for various reasons, without parents or places to call their own. Despite this, the place and its people treated them well, considering the circumstances.

Of course, that didn't mean Naoto Shirogane _liked _the rustic old place.

When her parents had met their premature death, the young, seven-year-old Shirogane hadn't fully understood. She knew "life" and "death" from the dictionary, but otherwise could not claim to comprehend the concept. All she knew was that she would never hear her mother's sweet voice in her ear, or feel her father's reassuring hand on her shoulder. Naoto did, however, know that sometime soon – "soon" was all the caretakers had told her, after patting her gently on the head – she would be moving to her Grandfather's Estate.

Naoto had never met her Grampa, though her parents had seemed fond of him. She also was unsure what the Shirogane Estate would look like – she pictured a mote with vicious crocodiles lurking within the murky water, and a fortress surrounding a monstrous mansion. The word "Estate" sounded quite intimidating, as Naoto had thus far only lived in a cramped, cozy little house by the sea.

Due to the sudden death of her family, and how far away the orphanage was from the Estate, it would take a while for her grandfather to organize things and send someone to retrieve her. Naoto had originally been content with waiting, but after arriving at the orphanage, her loneliness and impatience grew daily, until at night she would curl up in her lumpy bed and cry silently until sleep took her.

Admittedly, she wasn't sure _why_ she was so dismal. The other children had offered to play with her, but after the third time she rejected them, they opted not to bother her again. Naoto was the youngest at the orphanage, and the other children daunted her with their superior size. She also didn't know _how_ to play most of the games they spent hours enjoying. So instead, Naoto sat at the windowsill, gazing wistfully as the other children giggled gleefully and played together.

As she watched them, Naoto soon became aware of a hollow, sinking feeling within her chest. At first, the skinny child thought she had become ill. She did recall reading something about how a change in climate could affect one's health. But after tugging at the billowy skirt of a caretaker and voicing her concerns, that theory had been disproved. So, scowling in confusion, Naoto returned to her bed and stared at the ceiling until the sun eventually hid back under the ground, and its light no longer filtered through the windows.

After a week, she had discovered the worn-out, raggedy books that sat collecting dust in the stifling sitting room. There weren't many, and the orphan soon found that she couldn't decipher most of the big words, either. Being faced with that challenge lifted her spirits rather than discouraged them, and with renewed gusto Naoto settled once again by the window, devouring the tales one by one.

Three days later, Naoto found that her vocabulary had increased significantly. As a trade-off, however, she'd read each book thoroughly, and was left empty-handed until her Grandfather decided to show up. That was the time when her spirits took a turn for the worst: though the stories entertained her and granted her such immense happiness once, when they had gone, she was left thinking she may have been better off without them. Was it worth the temporary bliss if she'd only be further forlorn days later?

After Naoto had begun to create pyramids and dungeons out of the books, the caretakers confiscated them, telling her that she needed to let the other children read them. She had been perplexed by this: nobody else would read them when they were out playing on the grass. Why _couldn't _she have them?

Two days later, however, Naoto was proved wrong. A boy, probably a year older than her, chubby and scruffy, settled down at an opposite chair, gripping one of Naoto's favorite tales in his grubby hands. Naoto remembered he was one of the clumsy children who'd always stumbled and fell, scraping his elbows and knees constantly. She frowned slightly when she spotted a white bandage wrapped around his right knee, tainted faintly with red.

Curious, she drew her gaze from the children playing tag outside, and watched as the boy began to flip the pages far too quickly to read. Steam may have poured out of Naoto's ears as she crossed her arms, mentally scolding the boy for making so little an effort. If he was going to take one of _her _books, he had better respect it!

The boy, dirt smeared on one cheek, glanced at Naoto, finally realizing she was there, glaring daggers at him. "Wha…?" He shifted uncomfortably, wincing as he rubbed his knee against the rough, torn fabric of the aged, grizzled chair. "W-whaddya want? Why're you staring?" He dropped the book to the floor, utterly careless. Naoto's eyes darted to it as it landed, open, partially torn pages crinkling against the hardwood.

"Are you going to pick that up?" Naoto responded quietly, but the room was so still she was certain he could hear her voice, if not her tone. She pointed with a thin, dainty finger at the book, adding, "You aren't going to read it? It's good." She hadn't spoken to most of the children, and under most circumstances would have been nervous. But her annoyance prodded her forward, and Naoto hopped out of the scarred leather seat, taking it upon herself to snatch the book up and fix one of the awkwardly bent pages.

"Oh. W-well, I wanted to. But… I'm not very good at reading. I never really learned too good." The boy flushed slightly. "But I always wanted to learn." He rubbed his face with a knobby hand.

"Oh." Naoto felt guilty for becoming so perturbed at the boy, and even felt a twinge of pity for him. Someone who couldn't read was missing out on so many wonders, and she began to sympathize for him. "Well… I could teach you. I-if you want. I've read all the books here."

The boy was surprised at first, and looked her over dubiously. His expression told Naoto that he was considering her age, and didn't believe that _she _could be any better off than him. But, to Naoto's excitement and shock, he nodded, a grin curling on his thin lips. "'Kay." He tugged the book from Naoto's grip and opened it to the beginning. Immediately his eyes darted to the first long word on the page. He tapped a grimy finger on it, then asked, "What's this one mean? Oh, and this one?" His finger skimmed over to the following page.

Naoto leaned over, swatting the boy's hand away so she could get a proper view. "That's easy. 'Acceptance.' It means…" Naoto frowned, shaking her head as if it were muddled. She knew the definition. And yet, it didn't seem quite _right, _after considering it. She decided to give the other one a shot. "Lonely," she mouthed, facing the same problem. The boy was waiting expectantly, eyebrows raised and smiling benignly. She blinked at the foreign-looking words for a few moments, attempting to withdraw their precise meanings from the recesses of her memory.

Just then, a caretaker rushed in, interrupting the two new friends. "Naoto, it's time for you to go. Your grandfather sent a nice man here to pick you up. Your things are all packed. Are you ready?" Naoto was fazed for a moment. She'd been waiting for what seemed like an eternity, and the moment she had earned herself a companion, she had to leave? Naoto sighed. No matter. Sadly, she waved to the boy – who looked somewhat grief-stricken – and trotted behind the older woman to meet her new guardian.

What Naoto didn't realize, however, was that she'd never find a satisfying definition for "acceptance," though she would become well acquainted with "loneliness."


End file.
